Vulcain
by Gutt
Summary: Nick bends down above him, crouching over his torso to squint at his face. Nick looks tired.


** Warnings: Violence and The Godforsaken F Word. That's about it.**

** A/N: I am not proud. I'm trying to get back into writing fics again, so this is a bit rough. And short.**

* * *

The croaking, broken moans and shuffling feet of the infected outside have become the common background noise of Ellis' life, now. What used to induce restless nights and fearful nightmares is as normal and constant as the whirring of an air-conditioner. The nights are safe, so long as they lock the steel-barred doors. Reinforce the locks. It's become a chore, almost. They know the barricades and doors are safe, but their stomaches still ache with nervousness.

During the day, it's different. The gang is forced to change from ignoring their instincts, to focusing on them. The natural adreneline coursing through their veins makes for a great survival tactic. The skittering of an empty soda can across the pavement nearly makes them jump out of their skin, shotguns readied. Constantly moving has toned Ellis' muscles and hardened his personality. He feels more mature... More scared.

With that said, he can't help but tense and force himself to breathe normally during these nights in the safehouses. His stomach churns. The hair on his arm prickles up. He feels like if he doesn't distract himself soon, he'll be up all night again.

His eyes wander around in the darkness. Moonlight shines through the cracks of the doors, and that's all Ellis can use to identify things in the room. The reflectiveness of Nick's rings catch his eye. The man is sleeping a meter away, chest rising and falling slowly. They're silver, Ellis thinks, and blinks a few times, squinting at them.

Outside, some infected knock over what sounds like a metal pipe. It clangs to the floor and makes his heart flutter in surprise.  
"I need to walk around or somethin'," he whispers to himself, pushing his sheets off him and sitting up straight. As he does, something gleams in the corner of his eye. It's sitting on the nearby table. A thick golden watch- definitely Nick's. Ellis smiles to himself and thinks about how typical it is for him to own something like that. He wonders how much it costs and who made it. He's never seen anyone from his hometown own anything nearly as expensive as what this guy owns.

Standing up, now, Ellis quietly walks to the table and picks the watch up. He tries angling it in the sparse light of the room, and it gleams over an engraving on the back. Vulcain. He whispers the name aloud and brushes his thumb across the engraving delicately. He's never heard of it, but doesn't doubt for a second that it's worth more than he'll ever be. Ellis begins to slowly and carefully put the watch back down- a hand snatches it out of his hand, and his heart nearly beats out of his chest.

Crack!

A searing pain spreads through from the back of his head. He falls to the floor with a soft thump and a groan. He hears someone's foot on the floor next to his head, along with another near his opposite shoulder. Rolling onto his back, Ellis looks up to see Nick's unamused face high above him. His feet are on either side of him, and Ellis has to squirm about to try and get away.

"S-sorry! Sorry," Ellis whispers, darting his eyes to the side.  
Nick bends down above him, crouching over his torso to squint at his face. Nick looks tired.  
"Do you know how expensive this is?" He whispers back, pointedly holding up the watch in his fingers.  
"No, no, well yeah, well. I mean I could have guessed, it was real fancy-lookin' an' all. Gold and shit, and-"  
"Shut up,"  
"Okay,"

Hands run through Ellis' hair, grabbing onto his locks tightly while bringing his head forward off the ground. Nick slams it back down, a dull thud sounding through the room.  
"Fuck!"  
"What were you doing with it?" The man whispers.  
"Lemme go!" Ellis hisses, "Was jus' lookin' at it! Ain't like it's worth nothin' now,"  
"Shut up, fuckin' kid," Ellis can see his lip curling in the dark, "This thing's worth more than your piss, and if I ever- EVER catch you touchin' my shit again I will skin you alive. You hear me, overalls?"  
The younger stares up at the other hatefully, his eyes boring into Nick's. Slowly, he turns his head away, still keeping eye contact. He wishes coach would wake up and tear this guy off him. He hates him like this. Greedy, vain asshole. Nick roughly grabs Ellis' jaw and turns it back toward him.  
"I said, you hear me?"  
Ellis nods slowly.


End file.
